


The Lady and The Gangfriend

by inspiritedmama



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspiritedmama/pseuds/inspiritedmama
Summary: I have no idea where I'm going with this fic except that the show did us Brio fans dirty, and I aim to fix that.For starters, my plan is to write alongside canon, expanding on it and giving us the porn we deserve. We'll see what actually happens tho! First chapter and we're already off book! haha. But I think it'll come back a little? I dunno. This is an experiment.





	1. Pilot

_The problem with going back to normal life, is that Beth didn’t want to._

Beth wanted to cry when she pushed the door open and stepped into the empty warehouse. Rio and his people were fast, really fast. Even though the day had felt like a week, it had only been a few hours since Rio had given her her freedom. It turns out, she didn’t want it. She hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about the reasons. She was sure it said something horrible about her that she was not prepared to deal with at this present time. Pushing down her disappointment and anything else she might be feeling she carefully unclasped her pearl necklace and hung it on the doorknob. It was a long shot. What reason would he have to come back? But if he did… he’d know who it was from.

Rio suppressed a smirk as he watched her hang the white strand on the door and walk out. He’d come back to do one final sweep and was only half surprised to find Mrs. Cleaver looking for him. He’d hung back, the shadows easily concealing him in the large expanse of the warehouse, waiting to see what she would do. She was predictable, in a refreshingly surprising way. That she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe with him was her most interesting, and attractive, quality… but she wasn’t lacking in other areas either, even if she did dress like she was on her way to a PTA meeting. There was a streak of iron and fire inside of her, something he suspected she had only recently realized.

Strand of pearls tucked in his pocket, he let himself into her house after he saw the lights in her kids’ rooms go out. She was pouring herself a glass of whiskey and met his gaze evenly.

“You know the tradition is Jordans over a phone line, right?” he drawled.

“I only had pumps,” she quipped back.

He smirked, stepping forward to the counter opposite her and somehow managing to look her up and down without taking his eyes off hers. “So,” his voice was smooth and low, “What’d you want to talk to me about?”

She finished the bottle of whiskey after he left. Despite the stereotype she’d never had a drinking problem before. Before what? Was it Dean’s affair that drove her to drink? The money problems? Or the fact that she’d just willingly put herself back in a crime boss’s pocket less than a day after she’d gotten out. All of it, she decided, draining the last drop of amber liquid. Any one would drive a person to crawl inside of a bottle. All of it? No, she wasn’t thinking about that, that’s why she was drinking. The adrenaline had taken the edge off of her buzz and she only felt pleasantly warm. As she slipped into bed she entertained the thought that she should be a lot more scared than she was, but right now she couldn’t think of why.

****

It had been almost a week and he hadn’t contacted her about a job. She didn’t have his name, let alone his number, so all she could do was wait. “I’m gonna fix that next time I see him,” she muttered to herself as she pushed open the door to her bedroom. She fought back a scream when she saw a dark shape waiting for her.

“See who?” The now-familiar drawl simultaneously relaxed her and set her on edge.

“You can’t keep walking into my house!” she hissed.

“Door was open,” Rio said. Something about his voice was off. Strained.

“What-” her question caught in her throat as he slumped forward, catching himself on the footboard.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Beth moved forward to support him, caregiver instincts kicking in.

“More like ‘shot’,” he said, groaning as she moved him towards the bed.

“And you came here?” He was taller than her and his lean frame was packed with muscle, it was an effort to get him up onto the bed. His left hand was pressed against his side and even in the dim light she could see the stain of blood.

“Well, you work for me now, don’t you?” That was the last he’d gotten out before he passed out.

With far more outward calm than she felt, Beth went to the ensuite and pulled out her first aid kit. Saline, some gauze, and a few Paw Patrol bandaids. It was going to have to be enough. She grabbed the box and went back to the bed. Gingerly she lifted up his shirt, he groaned and shifted as it pulled away from the blood.

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. But his eyes stayed closed. “What am I supposed to do?” she whispered. Cuts and scrapes from the playground were one thing, but this…

“You gotta get it out,” he said, eyes still closed. “Not a through and through. It’s in there somewhere. Get it out, then sew it up.”

Making a note to cuss him out later if, no… when… they got through this (she refused to entertain the possibility that a gangbanger was going to die in her bed) she reached for her tweezers and turned her phone flashlight on. “This is going to hurt,” she said, her voice breaking a little.

Rio leaned back on the pillow. “I know,” he said. Her hands shook and she took a deep, uneven, breath. His hand closed around hers, squeezing a little. “You got this, Mami.”

“I got this,” she repeated and then got to work.

He hardly made a sound as she dug around, finally locating the bullet and pulling it out. Stitching it up as best she could she rocked back on her heels and let out the breath she’d been holding. Picking up the bloodied tools and kit she dumped it all in the bathroom garbage and washed her hands. Glancing back at him she made a decision. She grabbed the jar the cotton balls were in and dumped them out, filling it with warm water. Jar of water and clean cloth in hand she marched back to the bed.

She started to wash his chest. The tattoos continued, covering most of his body. But they couldn’t distract from the sharp lines of muscle, she felt her cheeks warming as she noticed just how fit he was. She worked her way up his chest until she got the bottom of the shirt she’d pushed out of the way. Without waiting to see if he’d protest, she started to gently tug the shirt up further.

“You want it off?” he asked.

She jumped, so absorbed in what she was doing she forgot the chest was attached to a person. “I, well I thought it might be more comfortable.”

He didn’t answer, but he started to lift himself off the pillows with a grunt. She was right there, supporting him with one arm as she pulled off his shirt. Suddenly she realized he had his arms wrapped around her neck, his torso pressed against her. As quickly as she could without hurting him she released him.

“I need… I need… I’ll be right back,” she stammered, scrambling backwards. Infinitely grateful that the kids were with Dean for the night she made her way to the kitchen. After she splashed some cold water on her face she grabbed a bottle of bourbon and went back to the bedroom. His eyes were open now, but he was staring at the ceiling. She took a swig from the bottle, hovering uncertainly in the door.

“You gonna stand there all night?” he asked in a dry tone, a little stronger than before.

Beth shifted uncomfortably. “I wasn’t, I mean… I can sleep in the guest room.” She moved to the dresser and pulled out a pair of satin shorts and a tank top. “I don’t want-”

“You gonna leave me all alone?” he said, his voice held a hint of a tease, but there was something else to it she couldn’t quite place. “I’ve been shot.”

It all came together. Not in so many words that she could explain. But she knew he, tough as he was, didn’t want to be alone. He’d been hurt. And he probably didn’t want anyone else to know, why else would he be here? Or was it a test? Her usefulness, willingness to do whatever he said. It didn’t matter, she couldn’t just leave him.

“I’ll stay,” she said quietly, putting the clothes back in the drawer.

“Nah, nah,” he said. “You was gonna get comfortable,” he teased out the word in that infuriatingly suggestive way of his. “Don’t let me stop you.”

She didn’t answer, but took another long pull from the bottle and went into the bathroom, changing quickly. He was lying on top of the duvet, so she crawled into bed, pulling the fabric up to her chest as she leaned against the headboard.

“So, you gonna share?” he said, holding his hand up for the bottle.

Apparently he’d had practice, because he didn’t seem to have any problems taking a drink while still mostly lying down. They passed it back and forth a few times until he fell asleep. Beth put the bottle on the end table and buried down into the blankets.

“Mom?” Emma’s voice was soft, but it woke her out of her sleep. The previous night came rushing back and Beth frantically looked from her daughter to the bed. Explaining why a tattooed man was half naked in her bed was not going to be easy. He wasn’t there, and the blankets had been folded in such a way to hide the blood. Then she saw him, standing unsteadily in the bathroom, supporting himself by leaning heavily on the counter… hidden from view to anyone standing in the hall.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I must have slept in. I’ll be down in a minute, okay?” Emma nodded and closed the door. “Shit, shit, shit,” she hissed. “You need to lay down.” She slid out of bed and came to his side, slinging his arm over her shoulder and helping him back to the bed.

“I tried to wake you,” he said, voice strained. The moving had pulled at the stitches. “When I heard them come in.”

Beth shook her head, “I sleep like the dead except for my kids.” She pushed her hair back from her face. “I need to make them lunch, Dean can take them to school.”

“Wait,” he said, shifting a bit and pulling something out of his jeans. It was a huge stack of cash. He pulled a bill of the top and handed it to her. “Tell him to get them subs or sumthing.”

She didn’t argue, taking the money gratefully and pulling on her robe. She slipped out of the room, making sure no one was waiting who could see in. Dean and the kids were waiting downstairs. Hurrying them out of the house, she gave the money to Dean and told him to take care of it. When they were gone she pulled some clothes out of the dryer and got dressed before going back to check on Rio.

He was standing, carefully pulling on his hoodie, the tshirt a lost cause. For a second she considered arguing with him to stay, clearly he needed to be off his feet. But one look at his face and she knew it would be fruitless. He couldn’t afford to be missing any longer.

“Thank you,” she said instead.

“I take care of my own,” he said simply.

“At least let me check the bandage before you go?”

He responded by lifting his shirt and she moved in closer to look. Carefully pulling up one corner of the gauze she checked, it didn’t look too red… although it was hard to tell between the tattoos and the darkly bronzed skin. When she straightened she was standing uncomfortably close.

“Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat. Before she could reply he stepped back and left.

She realized, as the door closed. She still didn't have his name, or his number.


	2. It's Not A Date

Errands were done, laundry was going (was it ever not going?), kids were doing homework, and dinner was in the oven. Beth pushed the door open to the bedroom, her after-the-kids-went-to-bed project tonight was going to be getting the bloodstains out of the bedding and she wanted to have it ready.

Her bed was not the rumpled mess she left this morning. Gone were the floral sheets and vine covered duvet. In its place was luxe satin looking grey bedding. The pillows were a darker shade of grey, and the turned down top sheet was a dusky rose pink. It was beautiful, and expensive. On her pillow was a cell phone with a rose gold cover. She picked it up, her other hand caressing the silken fabric. Egyptian cotton, the good stuff… not whatever it was they sold at big box stores. There was one number in the contacts “Rio”. Feeling too chicken shit to call, she sent a text.

_B: Thank you. It’s beautiful._

The phone buzzed seconds later.

_R: I take care of my own._

She smiled at the phone. Then she looked at the bed again. Was it higher? She bent down and tugged the bedding up, revealing a brand new mattress and box spring. Had the blood soaked all the way through? Sitting down on the bed (and fighting the urge to sprawl across the cloud) she tapped the phone against her hand. Her own bed. One she hadn’t shared with Dean. It felt… fresh. A new beginning. A bed she hadn’t slept in with Rio.

Beth froze, eyes wide. Where the fuck had that thought come from? He was undoubtedly easy on the eyes. There was a lithe grace to him, like a feline predator, that she couldn’t help but notice. But… no. She put the thought away, slipping the phone into her back pocket she made her way back to the kitchen to finish dinner.

She hated saying no to her kids. Especially with the salt in the wound reminder of Dean’s betrayal. It said a lot of things she wasn’t ready to deal with that she was more angry about him practically bankrupting them than his child-bride. Like everything else, it was up to her to make it work. Especially after Dean told Kenny they were planning a big party with the works. Apparently he’d been ill-equipped to deal with the puppy dog eyes, and then tried using them on her. She was disgusted. With him. With herself. That she had ever tied herself to such a weak man.

Making it work apparently meant scouring the discount and clearance shelves at the store with Annie and Ruby the day before the party.

“Anything,” she said as Annie held up some Happy Retirement balloons. “They won’t notice.”

Ruby dropped a huge bag of potatoes in the cart. “Potatoes are dirt cheap!”

Beth sighed and pushed the cart up to the cashier. She’d figure something out.

“I still don’t know how we’re gonna use 50lbs of potatoes,” Annie muttered.

“Well!” the cashier said cheerfully, “Our return policy is 30 days as long as you have the original receipt! Anything in the store.”

Ruby and Annie looked at her, all three sharing the same thought. The other two women made to head back into the store but Beth shook her head. Too suspicious to turn around now. She finished checking out, ignoring the meaningful looks. When they were out of earshot of the registers she sighed, exasperated. “Don’t you think it’d be a little suspicious if we turned around and loaded up the cart?” She held the receipt out to Annie, “Go return these and meet us in the party aisle.”

Surprisingly, Annie didn’t argue. She took the cart and headed over to customer service.

Three hours and ten thousand dollars later Beth sprawled out on her bed. The garage was full of bouncy castles, popcorn machines, ice cream makers, everything she’d need to pull of a truly epic party. Her hands ran along the duvet cover, it truly was heavenly. And the color combination… Rio had taste. It was one of the best sleeps she’d had in years.

As she rolled over and hit the alarm a wild thought occurred to her. Before she could talk herself out of it she grabbed the phone and texted.

_B: I have an idea._

Like before, the phone buzzed a reply in seconds.

_R: Good morning to you too, darlin. Lunch?_

_B: Can’t. Kenny’s birthday party. Later?_

_R: K_

That out of the way she threw herself into party mode.

It was a hit. She stood back, watching the kids play, with a lemonade in her hand and a smile on her face. “Alright kids, cake time!” she called. Everyone gathered quickly and Kenny blew out his candles, after wishing that “Daddy could move back home”. She’d managed to keep a smile plastered on her face, but it cut. The day had been busy enough to erase all other thoughts. Driving counterfeit money across the border, thugs breaking into her house and holding her at gun points, Dean. And now it all came back.

Which was why when she first spotted him standing outside the door to her bedroom she thought she was just imagining things. Annie and Ruby shot her panicked looks and she realized it wasn’t a hallucination. Rio was standing at the door, a crisp button up shirt and jeans, and a wrapped box in his hand. Beth set down the glass and hurried over, hoping Dean hadn’t noticed. He was cutting cake with Emma, good.

“You can’t be here!” she said.

“You sure like telling me what I can’t and can’t do,” he said, stepping forward so he towered over her. “I don’t usually go for that in a woman.” He licked his lips and gave her a Look. “Mmm.”

Beth stepped back, flustered. “I told you, it’s my kid’s birthday party.”

“I know,” he said with that infuriating smirk. He held up the wrapped box. “I brought a present.” When she didn’t take it from him he set it on the bed. “I take care of my own.” He repeated his words from before, and she could tell it wasn’t just something he said. He meant it. And now she was one of his.

“Thank you,” she managed.

“Dinner?” he asked.

“What?”

“Dinner. That’s how you folks do business right? Over dinner?” He held out a card, it was for a Mexican place downtown. “Nine o’clock,” he smirked again, “You want me to pick you up?”

Before Beth could answer Dean appeared in the door to the hallway. “What’s, what’s going on?”

God, he sounded pathetic. “Nothing,” Beth said. “It’s nothing.”

While Dean hovered anxiously at the door, Rio stepped closer to Beth. He put a hand on her hip and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Keeping his voice low he whispered in her ear, “Yeah. He don’t look too trustworthy to me.”

Ignoring the way Dean bristled, Rio passed him, pausing to call over his shoulder, “See you at nine.”

“Beth?” Dean’s voice quivered.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s the bounce house guy, he’s coming back to pick it up tonight.”

Rio couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he walked through the house. That idiot husband was too funny. Beth hadn’t told him what Dean had done. But he was good enough at reading people and situations to get the gist of it. What a moron. He spotted a short blond girl, cornered by a skeezy looking dude.

“What are you doing here, Boomer?” Annie asked.

“Dropping off the birthday cake,” Boomer said smoothly, keeping her trapped against the wall. “I upgraded it to the bigger size, no charge.” He sounded pleased with himself.

“Oh what, it’s an ‘I’m sorry I tried to rape you?’ cake?”

That caught Rio’s attention. He recognized the girl now, Beth’s little sister. His fingers itched for his gun, but he wanted to get out of the house. He was more than savvy enough to know his presence at the party would cause questions that Beth probably couldn’t answer. He settled for bumping into the guy, Boomer, roughly, giving Annie a chance to duck out and away.

“Sorry,” Rio said, not meaning a word of it.

“Hey, have we met before?”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he answered, still moving to the door.

“You look so familiar.”

“Just a friend of the family,” Rio replied over his shoulder as he stepped out of the house.

“You’re meeting with the bounce house guy, in our bedroom?” Dean bristled.

“It’s really none of your business. You lost all our money, and then promised a dream party. I made it happen.”

“I have a right to know what’s going on in my house!”

Beth’s voice went cold. “You lost your -right- when you stuck your penis in your secretary.”

“Oh c’mon,” he whined.

“You’re taking the kids tonight,” she snapped. “The party is over, I am exhausted, and I’d like some peace and quiet.” She wasn’t sure when exactly she’d decided to have dinner with Rio, but Dean certainly hadn’t helped matters. She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Kids! Party’s over. You’re going to your dad’s tonight.”

“It’s not a date,” she told herself as she looked down at the dresses she’d pulled out. Her hair was freshly washed, and she’d shaved her legs.

“Not, a date.” That didn’t stop her from taking extra care with her makeup, adding a little highlight to her cheeks. She pulled on a wrap dress and looked at herself in the mirror. It was cute, the wrap was modest and floor length, but showed a bit of leg when she walked.

“Definitely not a date. Business dinner,” she said, settling the necklace around her throat and taking one last look in the mirror. It was almost nine, which was the only thing stopping her from running back to the closet and putting on something else.

At nine exactly she heard a rap on the door. Taking a deep breath that actually did nothing to settle her nerves she opened the door.

“Daaaaaaaamn, Mami,” Rio said, hold his fist to his lips and leaning back as he took her in. “Car boy is an idiot.”

She flushed, pleased. “Thank you,” she said. Locking the door behind her she was surprised when Rio put his hand on her lower back as they walked to the car. He was dressed as he had been earlier. Slim fit dark jeans, and a deep blue button down shirt with a mandarin collar. It suited him, as much as the baggy jeans and hoodie did. He opened the door of his car, a black Lexus with silver trim, and she slid into the leather seat. “Thank you,” she said again. His manners were throwing her off, it wasn’t what she had expected.

“Yeah well,” he slipped into the driver’s seat. “Don’t expect a corsage or nuthin’.” And just like that he was exactly how she remembered.

She chuckled and buckled up. It was a short drive into the city. Shorter still with his driving. She was a little breathless by the time they reached the restaurant.

He led her, hand on her lower back again, fingers pressing into her skin, to a table on the patio. Market lights were strung criss-crossed overhead, and candles burned on each table. Theirs was well away from the two other couples that were seated outside, tucked in the back by some trees.

As she sat down, suddenly she felt nervous. This was easily the stupidest idea she’d ever had. Whatever his manners, he was a gangster. He’d had his lackeys hold a gun to her head, a literal gun. Sat in her living room while they trashed the place, playing on his phone while he waited for them to kill her and her friends. She swallowed back the bile. This was ridiculous! She had to get out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is canon-esque? I think that's gonna be what happens here. We dance around the plot, but really I'm just gonna do whatever the hell I want.


	3. Not Here To Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mind's been all over the place lately with stuff, and I'm not as happy with this chapter as I want to be. But this is just a fun experiment so I decided to stop stressing it and just post it. I'm torn between making this a slow burn, or just getting to the banging! lmao

Beth was still on the verge of hyperventilating when the server arrived with their drinks. Had they even ordered? Or did the server just bring them? A Bohemian Obscura with a sot of tequila was placed in front of Rio, and a large salt-rimmed lime margarita appeared in front of her. She barely managed to stop herself from chugging it. Taking a sip she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, it was good… very good. If she wasn’t careful she was going to drink the entire thing in one long pull, and then order another. For a wild moment she wondered if that would be such a bad thing. She’d drank plenty since being confronted with that glitter butt flossed proof of Dean’s infidelity. But she hadn’t gotten black out drunk. Only a little drunk, like the proper WASP she was. Somehow, despite her panic attack, getting completely wasted with this gangster at a restaurant she’d never been to was sounding like a very good idea.

“I didn’t know this place was here,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as strained to him as it did in her head.

Rio took a sip of his tequila and leaned back in his seat, arm slung over the back, beer in the other hand - the picture of relaxed - and smirked. “Pretty sure this isn’t Car Boy’s scene.”

No, it definitely was not. Dean thought TGI Friday’s or Applebees were nice restaurants, and it’d been years since he’d taken her out on a date anyway. But this wasn’t a date, this was a business meeting. Whatever Rio was, however they’d gotten here... This was her way out of the shitpile that she’d been launched into. Not the time or place to drink and forget. She sat up a little straighter and cleared her throat. “About my idea,” she began.

He waved a hand, cutting her off. “No business on an empty stomach. A man might think you were tryin’ t’rush up outta here.”

The server came back and Rio chatted with him in Spanish. A glance at the menu in front of her revealed it was not in English, and she couldn’t find the word ‘taco’ anywhere. Leaning back in her seat she sipped her margarita as he ordered for both of them. Neither spoke much as they waited for their meals. Rio seemed content to let Beth stew in her discomfort. He was the picture of ease, she hated him for it. She began to consider calling a Lyft when the food arrived.

“So,” he said, pushing the plate away. “Your idea. You gonna make me rich, Mami?”

Beth put down the fork. The food had been incredible. Her only experiences with Mexican food to this point had been TexMex and it had not done the cuisine justice. “I don’t know about rich, but perhaps with fewer bullet holes?”

He chuckled, “What, you didn’t like playing nurse? I was gonna get you an outfit and everything.” It was too easy to push her buttons.

She choked on her drink, coughing to clear her throat. “As tempting as that sounds… I can’t imagine it’s good for business getting injured like that.”

“How would you know what’s good for my business?” He folded his hands together and leaned forward. The transformation was night and day. He was all business now. Gone were the smirks, the teasing, the hints at flirting or whatever it was he was doing. There was no room for that when it came to his empire.

“Let me clean the money for you,” she said, hoping if she hurried into the heart of it she wouldn’t offend him further.

“And just how are you gonna do that? It’s not like doing laundry.”

“Shopping.”

He arched an eyebrow but motioned for her to continue.

“Big stores have very generous return policies. What what else is a bored housewife to do but shop? Then the guilt hits, or the husband finds out, and she has to return everything… for cash. Clean. Cash.”

“Hmph.” Rio pursed his lips, considering. “And you could do it?” he asked, still all business.

“Well, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“Not here to try, I’m here to win.”

She believed it too. For all he said he took care of his own, and it certainly seemed as though he did. She knew he didn’t have a whole lot of grace for failure. “I can do it,” she said firmly. “For twenty percent.”

“Ten,” he countered.

“Fifteen.”

“Twelve, and you get your friends to help too.”

“Deal,” she held out her hand. He looked at it for a moment then shook it.

“Deal,” he repeated.

The not-a-date dinner was pleasant enough. Rio wasn’t much of a talker, and she did not have a whole lot to say. But the silence was surprisingly not uncomfortable. Such a welcome change from dinners with four children squabbling and Dean droning on about something or other. Her panic attack forgotten or at least locked away in a deep dark safe, she let herself relax just slightly. Soft sounds of Latin music drifted onto the patio as she enjoyed the dessert, a fried bread of some kind, with a drizzle that made her want to lick her plate.

Rio walked her to the door, his hand light on her back as he escorted her. “You never know what kinda thugs you might run into,” he said with a smirk over her protests.

They stood awkwardly on the porch as she dug for her keys. Or rather, she felt awkward. He always seemed so collected, so completely at ease and in control. It was disconcerting.

“Good night,” she said, hand on the doorknob, cursing how breathless she sounded. He was standing close, looking down at her with those unreadable dark eyes.

“Good night, Mrs Cleaver,” he replied. Beth’s breath caught as he licked his lips and she thought for one heart stopping moment that he was going to lean down and kiss her. But he stepped back and walked to his car.

***

“Morning.” Rio’s voice was low in her ear. She startled, the coffee mug slipping from her fingers. His hand snaked out from behind her and caught it, only spilling a little on the counter stop. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she could feel his body just behind hers.

Dean had just picked the kids up for school and was backing out of the driveway. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping the slatted blinds were enough to conceal Rio’s presence from anyone who might be looking in from the outside. She’d not heard from him since their business dinner a week ago. Was starting to wonder if it was all just a crazy dream.

“Breakfast smelled good,” he said. He stepped back, giving her space to turn around, and she saw the black leather bag on the edge of the island. “And it’s delivery day. So, what’s for breakfast?”

Beth tried to catch her breath. “Pancakes,” she said. “Blueberry.”

“Sounds good,” he said. He moved to pull a mug from the cupboard - how did he know where they were - and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking a seat at the island.

“You expect me to cook you breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

“Please?” He looked up at him over the rim of the mug he held with both hands, all puppy dog eyes with lashes far too long to be fair on a man. His face matched the pleading tone.

“Fine,” she huffed. She turned the griddle back on and started mixing another batch of batter.

“You tell your girls about our arrangement yet?”

Somehow he managed to imply so much more with that seemingly simple question. Something… dirty. She cleared her throat, “No. I figured it would be easier when I could show them the money.”

“Smart, smart,” he said. “Maybe there’s a business woman in you yet.”

“I’m a lot of things,” she said firmly. The words surprised her. She married Dean early, and had thought she was content to play the role of doting housewife. Looking after him, the children, the house… it all seemed a fair return for living the kind of life they did. Now, with the pieces of her life scattered in shards at her feet, she found herself wondering if it was worth putting it all back together. She’d had a chance, to patch things up… and now she was short one strand of pearls, and there was a gangster with a bag of fake money sitting at her island while she made pancakes. Was it better?

“I believe that,” Rio replied sincerely. And he did. Whatever little box her idiot husband had been trying to keep her in while he went off and did, whatever it was he did, didn’t suit her. Oh she did the Mrs. Cleaver look just fine. Looking as though she was just off to bring orange slices to a soccer game, or attend the PTA. But that was just a little part of her. Truthfully, it was that other part that had him call off his thugs. It wasn’t what she’d said in her intelligent plea for her life, and the lives of her friends. It was that she’d thought of it at all. She’d managed to put it together while a loaded gun was at her head. And that was something he didn’t want to see snuffed out. He liked pushing her, making her uncomfortable, just to see what she would do. She acted exactly as he’d thought she would in the most unpredictable ways, and he liked that about her.

When he left she cleaned up the dishes. It had been surprisingly not as strange as she thought, having breakfast with him in her kitchen. That was not a thought she was going to dwell on. She ignored the little warning flag that there were an alarming number of things that she was flatly NOT thinking about, and instead texted Ruby and Annie to come over as soon as they could.

“Did you knock over a bank, without us?” Annie asked, her eyes round as she took in the pile of cash on the table.

Beth was putting red bands around each of the stacks, and carefully counting just how much they’d been given. “I made a deal.”

“With gangfriend?” Ruby asked, picking up one of the stacks and flipping through it.

“To put us all on our feet, and maybe a few steps ahead, for once.” Beth took back the money and added it to the pile. “Look, we’re all up a financial shit creek. I figured we should at least have a paddle.”

She explained her plan, pulling out the large map that she’d spent the morning pouring over. Annie was an easy sell, she’d have probably happily robbed another store if it came to it. Ruby took a little more convincing. Not that Beth could blame her. Stan was a cop now, it added a whole extra complication. But she had the biggest financial need, too. Beth divided up the money, giving them each a handful of green bands for the clean cash. “We’ve got a week,” she said. “And do NOT spend the money on yourselves,” she added with a pointed look at Annie.

Her sister looked offended, but she wasn’t taking the risk. Being held at gunpoint was an experience she would happily go the rest of her life without going through again. Annie scowled at her, but nodded.

It was time to get to work.


	4. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short, but it's smutty!

Shopping was hard work, as it turned out. Even with piles of cash to spend, it was still exhausting. There was so much to plan, and organize. Making sure that they didn’t get caught meant driving all over the state. Beth wrapped a green band around the last stack of cash and sank down onto the couch. Feet aching, she pulled off her pumps and threw them over her shoulder towards the door.

“Normally women don’t throw their shoes at me until the morning, at least,” Rio chuckled.

“Bite me,” she said before she could stop herself.

Rio put both of his hands on the back of the couch and leaned down, she could feel his breath on her neck and she shivered. “Only if you want me to,” he said in a low growl. Before Beth could respond, he went over to the liquor cabinet and poured a large glass of red wine. He handed it to over and sat down beside her. He eyed her up and down, his face contemplative, then he patted his lap.

“If you want me to sit in your lap, you’re going to have to give me something stronger than wine.” Beth really couldn’t stop herself, apparently her filter was completely gone.

Rio just laughed again, “Your feet, Mami. Gimme your feet.”

Beth blinked at him, but her body moved of its own accord - shifting until she was sideways on the couch with her feet resting on his thigh. As he picked up her right foot she took a long sip of her wine and closed her eyes. His fingers were strong, but not painful. He ran his thumb up the arch of her foot, her toes curling reflexively. Twice she opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t fall out of her brain. He continued to work his fingers into just the right spots on her feet, pushing and kneading until she felt as if every bit of stress she’d been holding onto melted away. Her head fell against the side of the couch and she let herself relax.

Slowly his hands moved up over her heel to her ankle, gently working their way up. She opened her eyes when his fingers began to brush her calf and she found him watching her. His fingers stilled slightly as his dark eyes held hers. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she said softly. To underline her words, she slid down the couch towards him.

“Okay.” He was unreadable, but he started gently massaging her calf, working up her leg until his thumb brushed against the back of her knee.

So far she had managed not to make a sound, but now she groaned. Her face colored instantly and she was glad her eyes were closed.

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he said. His tone was deceptively matter-of-fact, but there was a note of something in there she couldn’t quite understand. “Otherwise what’s the point?”

He moved his hands back down her leg. Roaming between her knee and her foot. Somewhat less self conscious now, she allowed herself to express her pleasure at what he was doing. When he moved his hands back up towards her knee she shifted again, sliding further down the couch. His hands kept moving, kneading into the muscles on either side of the joint, but she could feel the pause in his body. The way the muscles in his legs tightened as she shifted.

Beth let out a soft breath and was just about to sit back up when Rio slid his fingers under the hem of her skirt, letting the fabric keep her covered. Her breath caught in her throat. His touch was light now, more like a caress. His hands were rough, calloused, but they felt like silk moving across her skin. She bit her lip, moaning as his nails scraped her inner thigh. And then he pulled his hands back, a whimper slipped past her lips before she could help herself. He didn’t laugh, but she could feel the rumble through his body.  
“Can’t ignore the other leg.” His fingers started to work on her left foot. “It’s all about balance.”

She pushed her head back into the couch and let out a long breath. She was half draped over him and he had to lean away from her to reach her foot. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to rest on his back. He was wearing a hoodie today, unzipped with a tshirt underneath. The fabric of the hoodie was thick, but she could feel his muscles moving as he rubbed her leg. He didn’t say anything, and she kept her hand where it was, thumb brushing against the cloth. Feeling bold, she moved her hand and slid into the hoodie. She could feel the heat of his body against her palm now. Gently she dragged her nails along his ribcage and he huffed in pleasure.

Rio turned, his fingers digging into her upper thigh, still under her skirt. When he looked over at her, her eyes were open, watching him. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. He held her gaze, waiting to see if she would reach for him again. The moment she stretched out her hand he was on her. Somehow he managed to pin her on the couch underneath him, his lips pressed down on hers. One heartbeat of stunned breathlessness was all it took, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer.

One hand on her thigh, the other snaked around her neck, holding her to him as he kissed her. His tongue gently swiped over her lips and she opened her mouth. He growled, fingers tightening and she started to pull at his clothes. Rio pulled back and shrugged out of his hoodie, yanking his tshirt over his head he paused and looked down at her. Beth took him in, the tattoos exquisitely spiraling around tight corded muscle.

The newest scar, the one she had sewn up, was light on his dark skin. Her fingers brushed it gently, and he lowered himself back over her, body nestling between her thighs. His hand slid up her side, under her shirt, until he cupped her breast. His other hand tangled in her hair, holding her head back as he gently nipped at her neck. Beth moaned, nails dragging down his back. His lips found hers again as his fingers began to ghost over the top of her bra, teasing the swell of pale skin. Gently they delved under the lace, sweeping over her nipple.

She gasped, and he rumbled. “Is that what you like?” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her neck as his fingers swept over the hardened bud again. Her nails dug into his back as an answer and he groaned. Gently he started to pull the cup down until he was able to cover her breast with his hand. She bit her lip, arching her back and pressing into him. Her fingers found his neck and she pulled him up to kiss her again. Her tongue slipped between his lips, scraping against his teeth. He returned the kiss eagerly, hands moving to her back and unclasping her bra with an easy flick of his fingers. She sat up as he started to tug at her shirt, pulling it over her head and then he tossed her bra aside.

Beth woke up as her climax shuddered through her. She fell back against the pillows with a gasp, her hands clutching at the sheets. Lying there, panting, she let herself enjoy the feeling before the wave of thought crashed in. Last night she, and Rio… Rio! She turned, half expecting to see him in her bed. The disappointment at seeing the empty space beside her surprised her. Had it all just been a dream? Her fingers probed her neck and she winced, feeling the tender skin. There were definitely bruises, not all a dream. She flushed, how much had they…

No. He had kissed her, fondled her within an inch of her life, until they had both fallen away, panting. Then they had lain on the couch, her fingers tracing his tattoos the way she’d longed to do since she first saw them. Neither of them had spoken, and he’d just held her. She had pulled on his hoodie in a wild and impish moment, zipping it up so it stretched comically across her chest. Rio pulled on his tshirt and then pulled her towards him. She thought he was going to take his shirt back, but he kissed her again, tugging the zipper down so that it barely clung to her breasts.

“It’s a good look on you, Mami,” he had chuckled softly as he picked up the bag with the cleaned cash. Another bag just like it sat on the table. Their cut was stacked next to it. He tugged her along with him as he walked to the door, kissing her one final time. “Sweet dreams,” he teased.

She’d locked the door behind him and gathered up her shirt, bra, and the money. Then she’d fallen into bed. Memories of her dreams, feeling all the more real with the memory of him stroking and teasing her, had her reaching over to her nightstand. Buried in the back was the toy she’d bought herself years ago, when she’d realized that Dean would never learn to take care of her the way she craved. It didn’t take long before she was gasping and clutching at the sheets again, the feeling of her toy overlayed with fantasies of a dark and lithe man claiming her for his own.

What had he said? “It’s supposed to feel good, or what was the point.” She had no trouble believing that was how he lived his life. Rio did not seem to be the sort of man who was inclined to do anything he didn’t want to. Could the same be said of her? Most of her life had been spent doing what she thought she was supposed to do. Playing the dutiful wife, having the children, then raising them. Being the perfect cardboard cutout of a wife and mother. That wasn’t what she wanted anymore. That much was certain. But what did she want now?

Rio’s face came to mind, and she inhaled a slow, shuddering breath. She couldn’t imagine someone more opposite than Dean if she tried. And not just looks… although the memory of Rio’s body, half clothed, was enough to send a tingle through her, it was more than that. He challenged her, expected her to… what? Challenge him back? Stand up for herself, at least. Oddly, he’d shown more trust in her the short time they’d known each other than Dean had given her their entire marriage. And his way with her. Rio’s touch set her on fire. Wherever else her mind was trying to spiral to, it kept circling back to that. To her desire.

Throwing an arm over her forehead to block out the light, she exhaled sharply. “Fuck.”


End file.
